All the while she talked, I had my eyes flickering between her and the road. She sat with her feet up on the seat, her body strewn in such a way that she was almost lying down, with her head resting against the edge of the window. It was kind of a high, having her all to myself like this. I started to fixate on how she hadn’t put on a seatbelt and how those seatbelts hung next to her body. It would be so easy to strap her down. I could be pretty creative when the mood took me.

  When I saw a little turn off the main road, I took it until we came to a secluded nook surrounded by tall trees. I parked the car. I was still staring at her through the mirror when she sat up, asking, “Why have we stopped?”

  I exhaled and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. Was I actually considering doing this? I mean, depending on what she preferred in bed, I could scare her off for good. Then again, from the very moment I’d met her, I had the distinct feeling that we were compatible, unnervingly so. Somehow, I just knew she’d be perfect, that we’d be perfect.

  “Taking a little break,” I replied as I turned off the engine. I left the keys in the ignition so that the radio could stay on. I’d found a station during the drive that was playing some nice, relaxing chill-out music, and I thought silence might make Annie uncomfortable. Her eyes flickered when I began climbing toward her into the back, and all of a sudden she was sitting up straight, watching me warily.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  It was crazy how she could go from relaxed to uptight in a heartbeat, and strangely, I kind of got off on her uptightness because it was so much fun helping her unwind. I let out a low, dark chuckle and pulled her into me; the moment my lips met hers, her tension melted away. Her hands gripped my shirt, her body straining against mine. I cupped her cheeks as I slid my tongue into her mouth, a hard, probing invasion. She allowed it with a sigh, and I began to ease her into a reclining position.

  She was heaving and breathless when I broke our kiss to whisper in her ear, “I’m going to try some stuff, okay? I promise I won’t hurt you, but I’d really like it if you let me. You can tell me to stop any time if you feel uncomfortable.”

  “Some stuff?” she asked, aroused yet perplexed.

  My hand wandered under her skirt, between her legs, and straight beneath the fabric of her underwear. I fingered her soft, silky flesh, finding her wet. Perfect.

  “Yeah,” I answered, my voice pure gravel. “It’s better if I just show you. Telling is no fun.”

  She nodded, lips plump from our kissing, and her breath escaped her all in a rush. Kneeling between her thighs, I took her hands and raised them above her head. Then I took the strap of the seatbelt and carefully wrapped it around her wrists. She stared at me, mouth parted, pupils gigantic, as I made a little knot and secured her in place. The way the seatbelt was installed meant that when I let go, it tightened further.

  “Is that comfortable?” I asked tenderly, running a hand along her trembling collarbone.

  She swallowed and whispered, “Um, yes. It’s not uncomfortable.”

  “Good.” I took the middle seatbelt then and wrapped it just as firmly around her waist.

  She didn’t sound upset, only curious, when she said, “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

  I raised myself above her, staring down as I replied, “I’m doing it because it’s what I like.” Then I kissed her again, and I knew I had her. Her mouth was soft and welcoming, and the little moans I swallowed told me she was enjoying this game. I rolled my hips, letting her feel just how much she was affecting me. Minutes passed, and she was panting, a blush painting itself red over her bosom. I pulled away and began to undo the buttons of her blouse.

  “This isn’t fair,” she whined, voice needy. “I want to touch you.”

  “Not tonight, love. Tonight, you’re the one who gets touched.”

  Luckily, the bra she was wearing unclipped at the front, and in no time I had her breasts bare and begging for my mouth. I sucked one nipple and then the other while she undulated beneath me, opening up just like a flower. Her thighs hugged my hips in a vise-like grip, and I started to push her skirt up until it was bunched at her waist. My fingertips dug hard into her skin as I pulled her knickers off and tucked them in my pocket. She’d already slipped off her shoes during the drive, and I could feel her heels digging into my thighs. I caressed her needy flesh, my chest moving up and down rapidly, my erection outlined starkly in my jeans. Everything felt too tight, and she was too beautiful. I was drowning in her.

  I rose on my knees and stared down at her, savoring the sight of her bound and restrained. It set off some kind of chemical reaction in my brain because my entire body hummed with satisfaction. I loved seeing her like this. It was exactly what I needed. I was improvising the fucking seatbelts in my car as restraints, and now I couldn’t picture our first time happening any other way. I could only imagine what she must be thinking.

  I circled her clit with my thumb at the same time I slid a finger inside her. She cried out, and I hummed in appreciation. Her startled, pleasured noises were completely gratifying. I’d been at her for less than a minute, and already I felt her orgasm building, hurtling toward the finish line. I knew it had to be the restraints. She got off on them just as much as I did.

  “Ronan,” she gasped, “I’m going to come.”

  “Come then, beautiful, come for me.”

  Her eyes snapped open, and she gasped loudly as she bucked and came on my hand. I kept stroking her, drawing out every last wave.

  Not quite recovered, she blurted, “That was….”

  “Intense.”

  “Yeah.”

  She was so wet now that it was impossible for me to wait any longer. Annie twisted and turned her body, clearly desperate to touch me. I loved it that she couldn’t. Loved that I was torturing her because it meant, when I finally gave her all of me, it would feel like so much more.

  The fact that I didn’t have a condom had been at the back of my mind the whole time, but I’d been trying to ignore it. Still, it was troubling. I trusted Annie implicitly and wanted her to trust me back.

  “You want me inside you now, love?” I purred as I pulled myself free of my pants.

  Her eyes ate me up as she nodded and licked her lips. I allowed my gaze to trail over her body before I leaned forward and ran the tip of my cock over her folds. She whimpered, and I bit the inside of my mouth because fuck, it felt too good.

  “Please, Ronan,” she begged, opening her legs wider, voice breathless.

  “I don’t have protection,” I admitted.

  A flicker of hesitation passed over her face before she rose forward slightly to kiss me. “It’s okay. I trust you.”

  And damn, was that exactly what I needed to hear. No sooner had the words passed her lips than I was sinking myself inside her. I did it slowly, savoring every inch, until I was buried deep. She moaned and sighed my name. I loved the sound of it, remembered back to the time when she’d only call me Mr. Fitzpatrick. Now all the formalities between us were gone. She was mine, and I belonged to her. I didn’t think a time would ever come when I didn’t want her this badly.

  I began to move my hips in a slow rhythm, fixating on the belt secured snugly around her belly. It was such a sexy look. And wow, the feel of her around me was incredible. I’d never felt anything like it. Had never made love to a woman I felt such a fierce, soul-deep attraction to.

  I rested my forehead against hers as I started to increase the speed of my thrusts. “You cannot imagine how unbelievable you feel, Annie. I don’t ever want to leave.”

  “I don’t want you to, either,” she breathed. “I feel so surrounded.”

  I rose then, unable to contain my need to fuck her senseless any longer. My hips jutted in and out almost violently, and she took it all, soaked me in and let me back out again, gave me something that I didn’t ever want to forget. She absorbed me. She was everything in that moment. All I could see.

  “You drive me crazy,” I said and then let out a string of select swear words.

  I could feel myself getting closer, closer to the divine heaven of coming inside her perfect, beautiful, celestial fucking body. I stared at her face, her eyes big and taking everything in. She was still all tied up; and I saw how not touching me was painful for her, yet she was getting off on it. I thrived on that pain. I was still thrusting in and out, her thighs holding me in place, when I ran my hands from her neck down to her breasts and all the way along her torso.

  She arched, straining for my touch, “Ronan, oh—oh God….”

  Annie came apart, swift and fierce, saying “please” over and over, begging me. She shook from the force of her orgasm but was unable to reach for me.

  I had all the power, and she had nothing. I could do anything to her, and she was simply there to enjoy the ride. A willing, submitting participant in this game for two. This was the dynamic I’d craved my whole life, but I had never found a partner as perfect as my dear, sweet, gorgeous little hermit.

  In the next second I came with a deep, strangled groan as I melded my mouth to hers and thrust my tongue inside. I’d never climaxed so hard in my life. I felt empty, drained in the most wonderful sense of the word. I drew away and cupped her face in my hands, planting tiny, worshipful kisses on her cheeks, her mouth, her forehead, her eyelids, and murmuring desperate declarations. “You’re perfect. The feel of you. Can’t get enough. I’m addicted. I love you.”

  I was still kissing her, working my way down her neck and nibbling on her earlobe, when I realized I’d said that last part out loud.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  New York’s Finest

  Blogging as

  *The Socialmedialite*

  April 11

  It’s time for everyone’s favorite blog post! That’s right—it’s time for DILFs!

  Sometimes “DILF” stands for “Dudes I’d Like to Flip Off.”

  Sometimes “DILF” stands for “Dogs I’d Like to Fix” (I think everyone remembers the prodigious leg-humping incident of 2014).

  And sometimes, “DILF” stands for “Donalds I’d Like to Fire” (spoiler alert, it’s always Donald Trump).

  But I think everyone’s favorite kind of DILF post is when it stands for “Dads I’d Like to Fuck” ☺

  It may be crass. It may lower me in your eyes. You may object to the fact that I’m looking at these dads with lustful intentions and licentious lewdness. But—come on—if our society has MILFs, then we need to have some DILFs for the ladies.

  Amiright, ladies?

  So, feast your eyes on the pictures below, my sisters in avariciousness. Today I’ve included a record-setting 36 desirable, drool-worthy dads.

  You’re welcome.

  <3 The Socialmedialite

  *Annie*

  I didn’t say it.

  Not in the car on the drive back.

  Not when we made love again that night in the shower…although I almost said it then. I said a lot of things in the shower—like telling Ronan he was a sex god, and that I needed him, and begging him to make me dirty so we could take showers and baths together eight times a day—these things made me blush scarlet every time I thought about them once the sex haze had cleared.

  I didn’t say it when he woke me up the next morning by blindfolding me and trailing ice cubes over my bare skin, promising me pleasure only if I could lie still and silent.

  Nor did I say it over the next two weeks as we went from event to event or when we came back to the hotel every night.

  He didn’t say it again, either.

  However, regardless of where we were—a charity garden party fundraiser, a visit to a public school for a photo-op, a youth rugby match—he always found a way to show me how he felt. He made sure that I was served special peppermint tea at the garden party. He introduced me to the kids at the school as his fairy princess. He gave me his coat at the youth rugby game and rubbed my arms to keep me warm.

  At night he showed me by tying me up, taking me how and when he liked, always being in control, initiating lovemaking that was both terrifyingly tender and tenderly terrifying.

  I loved it. I loved how he surrounded me. I loved how ceding control made me feel safe and protected. I loved begging him, following his rules. I loved the freedom I found in complete capitulation.

  And yet…I didn’t tell him that I loved him, even though I did.

  He must know, I thought, staring blankly at my computer screen. I was reading through the latest comments on my DILF post. People’s reactions ran the gamut of appreciative to shocked to Hey! That’s my husband!! Woot!!

  I noticed that WriteALoveSong responded with a photo comment of a very, very nicely built male member of the military dressed in a bluish camouflage uniform holding the hand of an adorable little boy. The boy had brown curls and rosy cheeks and couldn’t have been older than four. She’d added beneath the picture, Add this to your next DILF post (and you’re welcome).

  The charity I was highlighting along with the post was for veterans who were also parents. It helped them train and find work after discharge from the military. I’d tried to include as many dads in uniform as I could, but of the thirty-six, only fifteen were service members.

  I was also avoiding my phone. Ronan’s sister, Lucy, had called and left a message; she wanted to go shopping and out to lunch. I didn’t know what to do. Since the rugby match, I’d gone out for coffee with a few of the team member’s wives and girlfriends. It was like a club, and I had automatic membership as long as Ronan and I were together. There was camaraderie, but it also felt like a no-pressure group. They were happy to let me be the quiet one.

  But with Lucy…Ronan loved Lucy. And I wouldn’t be able to blend in when it was just the two of us. I wanted her to like me; I wanted us to be friends—really, really good friends—but I had no experience with real-life friendship.

  I didn’t want to fuck it up.

  I was startled by the sound of the suite door slamming shut, followed by Ronan’s loud footsteps approaching. Just his footfalls alerted me to the fact that he was upset, and this flustered me; so I quickly shut my laptop just as he stormed into the bedroom. My attention snapped to his as he entered.

  “Annie….” he said, like he intended to add something more but didn’t quite know what to say. Though he looked angry, he also looked aggravated about his anger.

  I stood, watched him with wide eyes, and then prompted, “Is there something wrong?”

  “No! Of course not! Everything is just cunting wonderful!” he thundered and then turned away and stomped out of the room.

  I stared at the spot he’d just vacated for a few seconds, wracking my brain for what I might have done to upset him. I wondered if the source of his fury was my lack of verbal reciprocation of his feelings. My heart tugged painfully at the thought because I did love him.

  Bracing myself, I hurried out of the room, found him splashing Scotch into a glass at the wet bar. It was only 10:00 a.m.

  “Hey…so, I think I know why you’re upset.” I twisted my fingers in front of me, stopping just four feet from where he gulped his drink.

  He set the empty glass back on the bar, his eyes cutting to mine as he refilled the glass.

  “I doubt that,” he said, shaking his head once.

  “Is it because of… When you said—when you told me—”

  “Nope. And I don’t regret telling you, either, so you can stop fretting I’m going to take it back.”

  I shifted on my feet, feeling a little unsteady. “Is it because I haven’t…I haven’t said—”

  “Nope. I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” He studied the liquid in the cut-crystal tumbler then took another swig.

  “Oh,” I breathed, feeling equal parts relief and confusion. “Then what did I do? Because you’re obviously upset with me about something.”

  Ronan set the tumbler back on the bar and shut his eyes, exhaling a laugh that wasn’t completely devoid of humor. We stood there for several moments, so long I thought he might not respond.

  Then he said in a rush, “I’m the jealous sort. I know that, and I think you do, too. I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

  I frowned at his words, not understanding and saying the only thing that made any semblance of sense, “Ronan, I would never cheat on you.”

  His brown eyes opened, but they remained on his empty glass. “I know that. But I don’t even like you looking at other guys.”

  This statement only served to deepen my frown. “I honestly don’t understand where this is coming from. Of course I’m not going to ogle other guys in front of you. That would be completely disrespectful. Just like I wouldn’t want you to do that in front of me with other women. But….”

  “But,” he echoed, a small smile tugging his lips to the side.

  “Yes, there is a ‘but.’ But of course I’m not blind, and neither are you. Of course we’re both going to continue to notice other people, even if we don’t act on it.”

  He sighed then laughed again; this time it sounded self-deprecating.

  Ronan said to himself, “Ah, I am so screwed,” as he turned toward me, abandoning his glass on the bar and wrapping me in his arms. “You’re going to force me to grow up, aren’t you, Annie? I’m going to have to stop picking fights with all the boys who give you a second look. You’re going to make me mature.”

  I smiled against his neck, snuggled closer as I returned his embrace. “I hope not too much. I kind of like your dirty mind.”

  “I’m beginning to think I’m not the one with the dirty mind,” he mumbled, somewhat cryptically.

  Before I could question this remark, he bent forward and captured my mouth. Soon all thought—or ability to think coherently—was driven from my aforementioned mind and replaced with a delightful series of completely dirty thoughts.